


His Carer

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [18]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Caring, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Marriage, Relationship(s), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm has fallen on the ice......</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Carer

**Author's Note:**

> Flydye8 sent me a great prompt, and I had to do it........I bit more 'Malcolmy' than the previous one, I trust...........".I have a prompt for you. Somehow Malcolm hurts a hand, arm, wrist, (your choice) and Sam has to prepare him for an important interview. (Shaving, washing, hair ect) much to Malcolm's dismay"
> 
> I've gone a little more into Malcolm's character as I see him in this.....I have always had very definite views about the private Malcolm outside of the show, ever since it aired.......now I'm getting the chance to write them......

HIS CARER.

"Malcolm, the kids are driving me crazy, they want to go and play in the snow.....please, be a pal and take them. Just to get them out of my hair for half an hour!"  
The overnight blizzard had turned everything into a winter wonderland.   
Each tree branch was lined with white. Icicles hung from the gutters, glistening in the weak January sun.   
The sky was blue, the air crisp and chill, and the Tucker children were wildly ecstatic.   
Malcolm ushered his little brood out into the frosty morning. Their breath coming in clouds around their faces.   
Boots and hats, mittens and snow suits, dragging a sledge, they ran ahead, gleefully, calling to each other and squealing with laughter.   
Sam smiled to herself as she watched them go down the street towards the park, from the living room window.   
He was a great Dad, she thought to herself, infinitely patient, never condescending when he spoke to them, not treating them like babies, under no circumstances patronising or talking down to them. True he wouldn't stand any nonsense, but most of the time he was putty in their hands, yet they respected him, and they loved him dearly. 

oOo

It was more than two hours before she heard them returning.   
"Mummy, mummy, where are you?"   
Robbie's piping voice reached her as he ran ahead down the hallway.  
"Mummy! ......Daddy fell over on the ice.....he's hurt himself Mummy.....but he didn't cry."  
Sam dropped her magazine and hurried from the lounge.  
The children were busy pulling off wet boots and coats, Malcolm, however was leaning against the wall, looking grey.   
She hurried to his side.  
"Malcolm! What have you done? Are you okay?"  
"Shit, Sam, I'm too old for this fucking lark." He hissed through his clenched teeth.   
He was holding himself awkwardly, arm close into his body, clutched at the elbow.   
She helped him off with his jacket, gingerly, as he winced in pain.   
"Let me see it."  
"It's okay, it'll be fine. I've just sprained it that's all."  
"Malcolm!......Let me see it...... Now!"   
At her tone he demurred. Easing up his sleeve.   
His lower arm at the wrist was the shape of a dinner fork.   
"Oh!......It's broken Malcolm, I'm sure it is. We'll have to take you to casualty."  
Her husband groaned.   
Half an hour later, with the children safely ensconced at Uncle Jamie's, they were seated side by side in the triage area of the local hospital.   
Malcolm still hugging his arm close to his body, refusing to let Sam touch it, or apply a support, wearing a pained and miserable expression.   
Stubborn bugger.  
Four hours, an X-ray, and a manipulation under gas and air later, Malcolm and Sam emerged, into the cold evening air, he sporting a rather unattractive plaster cast and a sling, and a box of strong pain killers.   
The doctor told him it was a nasty break, the elbow was fractured too.   
As his legs slid out from under him on the ice, he'd put his arms backwards to save himself, and snap! That'd been it.   
The children, had clustered around him, Grace starting to cry. Despite his discomfort, his first priority was to let them know he was okay, brush it off so as not to alarm them. But holy fuck, it hurt like hell!   
Wee Jamie had to help him up, always the little man......  
"Come on Daddy, let's get you home now."

oOo

His fingers were so badly swollen, he'd have to go back in a few days to have the plaster changed, when some of the swelling had subsided.   
Worse, it was his right arm. He couldn't straighten it, or use his hand at all, he was virtually helpless.   
A bear with a sore.........arm!   
After a restless and poor night, where he just couldn't get himself comfortable, no matter how he laid himself. Sam was glad to see the morning, if only to end the torture.   
It wasn't that he complained particularly, it was just that he was morose and silent.   
Tutting and sighing to himself, as he realised how little he could do.   
From the bathroom, a cry came....  
"SAAAAAMMMMMM......."  
He was sitting on the toilet......  
She stood in the doorway, regarding him, a slight smile played on her lips.   
He looked up at her from his be-throned position, the ultimate ignominy.   
"Are you going to fucking stand there smirking, or are you going to fucking well help me?"  
She moved forward.  
"It's not a big deal Malc."  
"Well it is to me! My dignity is through the floor as it is, without having my wife wipe my fucking arse."  
She giggled despite herself.  
"Don't you fucking well laugh at me, Sam, it's not fucking funny. Ow! shit! .....and it hurts like the dickens. Bollocks!"   
"You can't get in the shower Malcolm, you can't get it wet. You'll have to climb into the bath and I'll have to wash you."   
"Shit......oh Christ.....Sam! I almost forgot.......I've got that executive meeting with Faber, at lunchtime! Oh for fucks sake! How can I turn up like this? They'll have to cut up my food for me.  
FUCK FUCK FUCKING FUCK!!"  
He was losing it.  
"Malcolm........calm down, for goodness sake. We'll sort something out. There you go, you're done. Now let's get you washed and shaved.   
At the start the humiliation, the embarrassment, was, for Malcolm, almost unbearable.   
Never mind that it was his loving wife, better her than say, a stranger, like a nurse in hospital.   
Malcolm's mortification knew no bounds.   
Submitting himself resignedly to her treatment.  
She lathered his face first, seated on a chair in the bathroom.   
Leaning over him, her face inches from his own, the rasp of the razor.   
Smooth and practiced.   
Following the contours of his face, one finger holding up his chin, tilting it towards her.  
Tongue sweeping her lips as she concentrated.  
"Am I imagining it, or have you done this before?"  
"Malcolm, I shave my legs every week, it's not hard!"   
He closed his eyes then, gave in, relishing her proximity, the soft touch of her hand on his cheek.   
A warm towel around his face, the sting of after shave.  
"Ummmm, you smell so good!"   
She held his jaw and brushed his lips with her own.   
His eyes snapped open; bewilderment, confusion, did she actually like doing this?  
Caring for him like this?  
Was he actually enjoying it? More than perhaps he should?  
Fucking mental, that's what he was. Being shaved and washed by a beautiful woman.   
Shit.   
It was perverse.

Drawing him a bath, holding his good arm as he stepped into the warm water.   
Bad arm wrapped in polythene.   
Sitting there, while she sponged and soaped him carefully.   
Hands moving all over him.  
So gentle and tender.  
Jesus! He was fucked, doomed.   
She was his wife......   
......In sickness and in health.   
But this? What was this? How did it make him feel?  
Fuck if he knew.   
Cupping her hands and letting the water trickle down his back.  
He found it a deeply erotic experience, being under her ministrations.  
He sighed.  
"You okay, sweetie?"  
"Yeah. Fuck.....Sam, it sucks, you having to do this."  
"Rubbish! You can't manage alone......anyway, it's nice."  
He looked up at her then, perplexed.  
"Nice?"  
"Yeah.......I'm looking after my property!"  
She smiled coquettishly, taking his hand and helping him to stand.   
Enveloping him in a bath towel.   
"Fuck. Is that what I am.....your property?"   
"Absolutely! You belong to me. You're my man. All mine. Every little bit of you!"  
Drying him off, slowly, deliberately, carefully avoiding jarring his sore elbow, moving him towards her so that she could reach his shoulders.   
"You still don't get it, do you? Still can't quite get your head around it. Maybe you will, someday."  
She waited......that 'little boy lost' look......there it was.   
The Idiot.  
She ought to be used to it by now......the puzzlement, the disbelief, the questioning 'why?'......  
"Who do you belong to?"  
"You. I'm yours.......fuck it all Sam. Trying, yeah?"  
"I know, Malcolm. I know. One day......eh? One day you'll be certain."   
She kissed him again, and he leaned into her, with a little whimpering sound.  
"Hmmmmm! Come on you.........hair!"  
Leaning him over the side of the bath she dowsed his head, washing his hair with the spray.   
Massaging the shampoo into his scalp, luxuriously, as he leaned down over the tub.  
Rinsing the suds away, seating him.   
Her eyes found his she ran a comb through, teasing out the knots.   
She moved in and kissed him again, lingering. Then breaking away.....  
"Look at you! My little fluffy chick!" She laughed.   
"You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you? Fucking hell, unbelievable!   
Bent you are, fucking bent."  
"Oh, hush, you big baby! Think yourself lucky I'm not leaving you to struggle on your own.....or perhaps you'd like me to call Jamie....I'm sure he'd be pleased to help...."  
"Ha fucking ha!"   
As she helped him into a pair of boxers, she could see his cock was now at half mast, and the urge to stroke him was just too much.  
He leapt a mile high.  
"Jesus, Sam.......what the f......?"  
"You're a turn on, like this," she whispered, close to his ear," all grumpy and powerless....."  
"So you're going to take advantage of my enfeebled state?"  
"Don't you want me too...?" She murmured, gently cupping his balls.   
"Do I want my degradation to be further enhanced? No, I don't.....not really. My fucking arm is killing me, I need some more tablets.....I want something to eat, and a cup of coffee. As much as my dick might disagree with the rest of me, I can't do this now.....honestly Sam!"  
"Oh, well. It was worth a try!"   
"Just you wait till this bloody arm is a bit better.....and I'll fucking shag you into oblivion, you minx, but not right now!!"

oOo

 

"Let's get you dressed then....."  
Sam continued to fuss over him, buttoning his shirt, stepping him into his suit trousers, doing up his flies and belt, tying his tie. Pulling the knot up to his throat, reaching up and around his neck to turn down his collar.   
His eyes fluttered shut, breathing in her scent.  
Fuck. This was exquisite torture.   
Pulling socks onto his feet, kneeling in front of him.  
Almost reverential.  
Choosing his cuff links, although she couldn't fasten his shirt sleeve on the bad arm.   
Clipping it through the buttonhole, straightening the creases, finding him a tie pin.   
Brushing imaginary fluff from his shoulders.   
Lavish attention, so sensual.   
"You'll have to wear your jacket on your left arm and just hang it over your right shoulder," she said, frowning.   
"It won't go over the plaster."  
He wound his good arm around her waist, held her.....unable to pull her really close, but needing something......a confirmation, a reassurance.  
Always a reassurance.....  
She smiled up at him,   
"You'll do. Come on, handsome, let's get you fed, and I'll drive you into town."  
"I can get a cab."  
"I'm going to drive you, then I'm coming into the meeting with you. They'll just have to put up with you bringing a carer.......you're not going to be able to manage left handed, you can't even undo your own trousers! "  
"Never thought I'd see the day when Malcolm Tucker needed a sodding carer."  
"People break bones all the time Malcolm, it's nothing personal. After the meeting, you're coming home, into a pair of joggers and a t shirt, then you can slum around and do your own thing.....  
......Right, now, you sit there and eat that, while I go wake the kids, get them ready for school."  
"Sam?"  
"Yeah?"  
"You're fucking amazing."  
"I know."


End file.
